Vend Fu
by DrawMeASheep
Summary: Tony discovers a new skill that gets him the sweet stuff.


Disclaimer: Owning NCIS is not for everyone, especially those who are pregnant or may become pregnant. Talk with your doctor before starting a disclaimer regimen.

Spoilers: Minor for _Collateral Damage_. Miiiiiiiiiiiiinor.

Summary: Tony discovers a secret talent.

* * *

Tony stared at the meager stash he'd assembled in his top desk drawer. The machine didn't take pennies or buttons or fake quarters with antler-things on them, so that left just thirty-five cents. That wouldn't buy a stamp, much less something chocolate, and what would he want with a stamp, anyway? He glanced out the window, but it was still raining like crazy. It was just as well; Gibbs had already declared that they'd had enough coffee runs for the day. Them, Gibbs had specified, not him, but it was technicality. Only snacks from the inside would be available the rest of the day. Tony checked his wallet again, but none of the crisp twenties he'd gotten from the ATM that morning had magically turned into singles. If only he hadn't tipped the cute Starbucks girl…

He sighed heavily, but no one asked him what was the matter. A few more ignored sighs prompted him to ask, "Ziva, can I have a dollar?"

"No," she answered without looking up from her computer.

"Why not?"

"Because you did not say please."

Tony rolled his eyes, but conceded, "Can I _please_ have a dollar?"

"What will I receive in return?"

He crossed the aisle, dropped to his knees and extended his arms toward her. "My undying gratitude and devotion."

"Oh? In that case…no."

She was unaffected by his icy glare as he used her desk to pull himself off his knees and turned toward McGee. "Probie, gimme a dollar."

"You didn't say…"

He interrupted, "I don't have to say please to you because you're not capable of removing my liver through my ear with pen cap and some loose thread." He took a step away from Ziva as he turned to say, "Please don't correct any part of that, because I do not need to hear any gory details on an empty stomach."

She raised an eyebrow, but didn't reach for any weapons. "We had dinner less than an hour ago."

"Like, fifty-five minutes ago!"

"Which is the definition of 'less than an hour,'" McGee countered.

Tony decided to blame his lack of a comeback on his hunger. "Fine. If you guys are gonna be Scrooge-y, I'll just go ask Abby. She'll hook me up with a dollar."

Ziva frowned, staying focused on her computer screen. "Abby was out with a cold today."

"Then…"

"Ducky left early and Jimmy will not give you any money."

"Why not?"

"Because I will call him and tell him not to before you get there."

He made sure he was partially protected behind the partition before saying, "Guess I don't have to ask if it's that time of the month." When she didn't react, he asked, "Can I have some quarters, at least?"

"I would have given you the dollar if you gave me half of whatever you got."

He grinned and came around the corner to sit on her desk. "Done. Where's my dollar?"

"I said I _would_ have. As you were too selfish to come up with the idea on your own…"

He pouted. "You're mean."

"And you're annoying. Would you just let me finish this?"

"What if I say no?"

She reached into her top drawer, but the shiny object she pulled out drew him closer instead of scaring him off. "Do you want this?" He nodded eagerly, following her hand with his eyes as she cocked her arm back and… "Fetch!"

He took two steps in the direction the quarter had flown before slowing down and forcing himself not to run. This didn't have to be completely humiliating. He did his best to look casual as he swept the carpet, eventually spotting the coin under the overhang of the last stair. He silently returned to the bullpen, collected his change, including the useless Canadian quarter, and walked to the vending machines without giving Ziva the satisfaction of seeing the lint on the knees of his slacks. He had only sixty cents in US coins, but there was a possibility he could trick the machine.

Staring into his palm, he realized he still didn't have enough. After carefully looking around for anyone who might ask what he was doing on the ground, he became one with the rug, shimmying on his belly as he peeked under each machine in succession. He found what he wanted at the end of the row. "Hello…Kansas, huh?" He blew a small piece of dust off the buffalo on the back of the quarter. "So that makes eighty-five cents in real money and all the good stuff in the machine costs a dollar, so…the extra ten cents in fake money should make up for the exchange rate."

He confidently fed his change into the slot, watching the numbers climb on the red digital display. Holding his breath, he inserted the last coin. The value of the Canadian quarter did not add itself to the total as the coin rattled in the change slot. He tried it again to the same result. "Work with me here! You're overcharging as it is!" He tried his imposter quarter one last time. "Yeah, I figured as much. You bastards don't work in the dryer either."

The mechanical whirr that came in response to his subsequent frustrated physical assault on the machine froze him. He watched as manna fell from heaven. Or from slot C-2, which happened to contain chocolate bars. The display still read eighty-five cents. He carefully slipped his hand into the machine, waiting for it to spring a booby trap on him. A minute later, he was finishing his chocolate bar with no harm done.

He gave the machine a test strike. Nothing. Going backward in his mind, he went through the sequence of moves that had resulted in the release of free candy. Another chocolate bar fell when he hit the machine on the casing just over A-4. He considered carefully as he ate his second treat. After a few moments consideration, he pressed the button that returned his coins. He pocketed the eighty-five cents and tried hitting the machine over A-4 again. The third chocolate bar tasted just as good as the first two.

He threw away the evidence and hit the machine one last time before returning to the bullpen. Ziva looked at him suspiciously as he offered her a piece of chocolate. "What did you do to this?"

"What? You gave me the money so I…"

"I threw a quarter across the room and you are giving me half of your candy bar."

He shrugged. "You saw me unwrap it. If you don't want it…"

"Thank you," she interrupted, snapping a piece off his fourth free chocolate bar.

"What can I say? I'm just a nice guy." His stomach started to feel uncomfortable as he sat at his desk, eating the rest of the bar. Still, he hoped no one started putting gummy candy or those weird orange peanut butter crackers in C-2.


End file.
